


BUZZER-BEATER

by succubusybody



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clothed Sex, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Humiliation, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, actual rape, at least a little anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 03:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/succubusybody/pseuds/succubusybody
Summary: The mall where Rey Niima works spent big bucks on a popular Santa this year. All of the girls she works with say he’s disgusting and creepy, but she manages to avoid him the whole season - until Christmas Eve.





	BUZZER-BEATER

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaraRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraRose/gifts).



> Merry Christmas ya filthy animals part 1

Rey Niima fucking hates the holidays.

She doesn’t tell anyone this; she doesn’t know how to say it without sounding like Scrooge, or opening up about a traumatic childhood when she’d really rather keep that to herself. It’s the only time of year, though, that makes her miss her family - or maybe just the idea of a family, since she hardly remembers her parents before they abandoned her.

Maybe working as a mall elf wasn’t the greatest idea knowing she’d have to watch kids and their families come to take their picture with Santa all day long, but it paid the bills. Paid real well, too, since she was one of the few employees that didn’t have any obligations. 

Someone needed a shift picked up? Sure, she didn’t have anything going on. Needed someone to make time-and-a-half working Christmas Eve when no one else wanted to? She’s got you covered. Hard to pass up the last shift of the year, especially knowing she didn’t have her next gig lined up yet.

Of course, it meant she had to work with the weird-ass Santa, Ben, that the mall had splurged for this year.

So far, she’s managed to skillfully avoid him; their schedules never seemed to line up, and today has been so busy that there hasn’t been a moment of down time. She’s heard stories, though. The other girls talk. Stuff about him saying they should sit on his lap, grabbing their asses. Normal, gross-guy shit she doesn’t have the patience for.

Maybe it’s good that they haven’t worked together before. The other girls have tried to report him, but he’s a _famous_ Santa, or something along those lines, and management is so happy to have him that they turn a blind eye.

If he says something gross to her, though, she’s gonna kick him in the nuts. Hard enough that he’ll never want anyone sitting on his lap ever again.

But thankfully the shift went by without incident. Last shift for the year, too. Being Head Elf meant that she had to stay a bit later to make sure everything was packed up properly, but it also meant that she didn’t have to wait in line for the showers.

What she’s most excited about is not having to look at this sparkly green and red outfit for another three hundred and thirty-two days.

The shower helps like it always does. Hot water has always had that effect on her, soothing all irritation and anger and letting her just… melt for a minute. Relieving, that’s what it is. Every time a kid coughs in her face or a parent starts to freak out, this is the moment she thinks about.

And, as always, it’s over too soon. Once she shuts off the water, she just stands there, arms crossed over her chest, dreading the moment she has to open the curtain and let all the warm air out. Christmas music is still playing over the speakers.

Someone shoves a towel through the gap between the shower curtain and the wall.

Rey squeals, which would have been embarrassing enough if she _wasn’t_ naked; this turns her twice as red. All she gets in return is a deep chuckle.

Unfolding the towel, she presses it against her chest before yanking back the curtain just far enough to see him there: still in his red suit, the beard and the gloves and the stomach padding gone. He’s leaning against the wall like there’s nothing wrong with this at all. Playing innocent, she figures. It isn’t as cute as he seems to think.

“You’re welcome for the towel, by the way.” He winks. She scowls, but he doesn’t move.

“Get out of here,” she warns, but he doesn’t move. “Or I’ll scream.” 

The threat doesn’t seem to bother him - fucking perv. He just raises his eyebrows, like he he can’t believe she’s asking this of him. She rolls her eyes and drops the shower curtain, squatting down to pick up her shampoo bottle before she leans out of the shower and whips it at his head. 

Lucky for him, it only hits him in the arm, but he pouts anyway. He still doesn’t move. Rey reaches down for the conditioner and holds it over her head as a warning, confident she won’t miss twice and completely willing to pay for his broken glasses if it meant the satisfaction of wiping that look off of his face.

But he’s actually smart this time, taking a step backwards and holding up his hands.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I was just trying to make conversation. No need to be a bitch about it.”

She keeps scowling until she can’t see him anymore, and then a little longer in case he tries anything funny. It’s a shame - she’d almost made it the entire holiday season without a reason to have to report him, and he’d gone and ruined that at the last possible second. 

Once she’s sure that he’s gone, though, she towels herself off and pulls herself into her regular clothes. Her hair’s not totally dry, but she’s been too stubborn to buy a hair dryer when Arizona winters don’t get _that_ cold in the first place. She’ll get to her locker, put on a thick jacket and a hat and be on her way. No big deal. She slings the towel over her shoulder, pushing her bag along with one foot as she swings the bathroom door open.

He’s still here, and he’s made himself at home, having pulled one of the benches over so he can lean against the lockers. Lean against _her_ locker. Rey huffs. There’s no way he could have known, but it’s still a point against him.

A flash of silver catches her eye - a flask. Charming. Come to think of it, she can smell him from here.

“Go home, drunk Santa.” Words she never thought she’d say. “Or at least get outta my way so I can go home.”

He swings his feet down off the bench, and she’s hopeful for exactly one second as his boots squeak on the tile - but then he plants his forearms on his knee, his head tilted to the side as he just… looks at her. It’s unnerving, and she does her best not to look away, but still crosses her arms defensively.

“You know…” he trails off, head still cocked like a curious puppy, and raises a hand to point at her. “I watched you all day today. You’re a lot prettier when you smile.”

Oh, great. He’s one of _those_. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Look, are you gonna move or not?”

He doesn’t move an inch, so she figures that’s a not. Rey wishes she could just say fuck it and come back for the contents of her locker tomorrow, but her keys are in there. Guess she’ll have to go get security, after all, just to haul his ass out of her way. Rude. She rolls her eyes and starts to turn away.

“You’ve been teasing me all day, and now that we’re alone you’re gonna play hard to get?” 

The accusation stops her in her tracks instantly, whipping around to look at him wild-eyed with disbelief. _Teasing_ him? “What the fuck are you talking about?” There’s a laugh in her voice as she asks, but she can’t help it: the absurdity of this obvious _delusion_ is too glaring to ignore.

“Well, you stuck around when you knew I was here and took a shower.” She scoffs as he stands, shrugging like it makes perfect sense and taking a step towards her. At least he’s out of the way of her keys now; she just has to move the bench. “Nobody else showered here.”

“I guess nobody else had a kid sneeze in their hair today.” Scowling, she tries to step around him, but he steps to the side, too. 

“It’s okay,” he says with a smile. “It’s just us now. You don’t need to pretend you don’t like me.”

“I’m not _pretending_ ,” she hisses, eyes narrowed. “I think you’re a pig and I want nothing-”

What part of it he takes as an invitation, she isn’t sure, but he stoops over to capture her lips with a kiss. Rey doesn’t react at first, too stunned by the feeling of his lips on hers - and, admittedly, he knows what he’s doing, because she’s had _many_ kisses worse than this, even though he tastes of whiskey, but that isn’t the point. Planting two hands on his broad chest, she shoves him back.

He just laughs. The hairs on her arms stand on end.

“You like it rough, huh?” His long fingers wrap around her arm with a bruising grip, and yanks her up against the lockers before she can begin to comprehend what he’s saying. “I can work with that.”

“Get _off_ me! This isn’t funny!” She tries to push off of the lockers, the metal cool against her fingertips and forehead and the soft space of her stomach where her shirt has ridden up above her waist. It’s no use; he keeps one forearm across her shoulder blades. He’s stronger than she thought. She hadn’t realized how tall he is until right this very moment.

“Go ahead. Try to fight me off.” His fingers hook into the waistband of her leggings, and he doesn’t peel them down far before he clicks his tongue. “No panties? You _did_ hope this would happen.”

Heat creeps up the back of her neck and finds a home on her cheeks, complemented by a panic that rises to match as he gets her leggings down past her thighs. “Get off! Stop!” 

He doesn’t listen, and the three words become a mantra, each more frantic than the last as she listens to him grunt and fiddle with the buttons and zippers on his pants. It isn’t until she feels the hot heat of him pressed against her, now freed, that she screams.

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” He shifts, his weight vanishing from her back as he reaches up to silence her, one huge hand covering the entire lower half of her face, his thumb hooked under jaw. He shoves the side of her head into the lockers hard enough to cause a _bang_ , hard enough to daze her for half a second. Tears well up in her eyes as she hears him spit into his hand. “We can’t be having that. Don’t want an audience tonight.”

A shiver runs down her spine as he spreads her open with his free hand, his fingers still slick with his own saliva. Rey know what comes next, but that still doesn’t prepare her - she winces as he forces his way inside of her, grunting. It’s slow progress, and a tight fit, to be sure, but he conquers inch after inch of her, walls parting no matter how much she tries to squeeze him out.

If anything, resisting makes it burn more.

Once he’s fully seated inside her, he whistles, and she hears him spit again before snapping his hips back. The first thrust only sees him about half-way in, opening her up like it’s nothing. “Fuck,” he whispers, and she isn’t sure if it’s to her or not. 

He’s huge, and she hasn’t had time to get laid in forever, but he spits one more time and the next half-thrust draws a whimper out of her. Rey hopes that he didn’t hear it, but has no such luck. He laughs at her.

“See?” He keeps going, half-fucking her gently like that, and slips a hand up her shirt to find her nipples already pebbled for him. “Maybe a good fuck is exactly what you needed to get that stick out of your ass.”

No one’s ever talked to her like that before, and she’s embarrassed to shiver with pleasure beneath him. This isn’t right, she knows; it’s not her fault. She hates this. She hates _him_. Her body just hasn’t yet received the fucking memo.

But the next time he pulls back, he pulls nearly all the way out; pain shoots up her abdomen as he forces himself all the way back in. She protests into his palm, so he laughs and does it again, causing a few tears to shake loose and roll over the backs of his fingers.

“Thought you liked it rough?” As if to prove his point, he slips his hand free from beneath her shirt and slaps her ass hard enough to sting before thrusting into her again. She doesn’t. She shakes her head as much as she can, and he pauses for a minute.

It’s stupid to get excited, but she does, thinking maybe she got through to him.

“Well…” he trails off, his hand rubbing soothing circles around the spot that is surely bright red from the last spanking. “It turns out I’m kind of really into it. Maybe you’ll change your mind?”

His next thrust is particularly painful, hitting exactly the wrong spot; Rey shrieks, slapping against the locker doors in frustration.

“Hello? Somebody screwing around down there?”

Her eyes widen, and Ben slows: the voice is somewhat far-off, but familiar, and it seems that he isn’t sure he really heard it right, either.

“Mall’s closing. Nobody’s supposed to be down here.”

 _Poe Dameron_. Security. He’d offered to walk her to her car once or twice before, but she’d always turned him down. This is her chance.

Before he has a chance to do anything, she bites down on one of Ben’s fingers hard enough to taste blood in her mouth; he swears and pulls it away, calling her a bitch as he examines the damage.

She screams louder than she’s ever screamed before. 

Ben realizes what she’s done a second too late, grasping the side of her face roughly and shoving it into the lockers in an attempt to shut her up. It isn’t enough, though, she thinks triumphantly; she bangs both her fists against the locker doors as hard and quickly as she can stand.

 _Find me, Poe,_ she screams in her head. _Fucking find me already._

As her coworker is trying to figure out how to pin her arms and legs in place while keeping her shut up, the locker room door swings open. She seems the beam of a flashlight swing through the room, and she doesn’t have to worry about making any more noise: the grunt of effort and squeals of shoes against the floor are enough.

She shivers at the feeling of Ben slipping out from inside her. She feels empty and free as he virtually disappears, and by the time she turns around, he’s already gone - just a flash of red nearly knocking Poe down as he bolts.

“Hey, Finn?” He cranes his neck to speak into his walkie talkie. “Catch Santa and get the cops over here.” He glances over his shoulder at Rey, and the pity in his eyes makes her stomach twist, like it’s just hitting her for the first time what’s just happened. “And maybe an ambulance, too.”

Then he turns around and offers her a smile, and it’s the comfort she needs to feel _safe_. Her knees buckle as the tears start to flow freely, and he rushes over to catch her before she hits the ground. 

“It’s over,” he says, carefully working his way out of his jacket one arm at a time to give her a place to sit on the ground. “We got him. It’s done.”

It won’t undo what’s been done to her, but it’s a start.


End file.
